


You Won't be Alone This Valentine's Day

by kangelique



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Small talks about pasts, Valentine's Day, Young Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Young Emma Swan, endearments (because its Killian), friends - Freeform, playful banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-25 02:30:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17716349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangelique/pseuds/kangelique
Summary: When seventeen year old Emma Swan ditches school to spend the day alone in a park, she doesn't expect to be accompanied by a certain flirty, certainly none other than the annoying Killian Jones that she was forced to sit next to in Chemistry. What she also doesn't expect is for him to break down more of her walls and maybe make her Valentine's day a little bit more brighter...





	You Won't be Alone This Valentine's Day

**You Won't be Alone This Valentine's Day:**

 

There was a small part, deep deep down inside Emma -like really deep because her and Ingrid were in no way whatsoever close yet- that felt guilty for the extreme amount of junk food she was about to gorge on with a twenty dollar bill that wasn't hers.

 

It was Ingrid's. Of course it was, because where else would orphan girl seventeen year old Emma Swan get the money to buy herself a box of poptarts ( strawberry, obviously), chewy chocolate chip cookies (the soft kind, no less because ever since the annoying and thinks I'm sexy Killian Jones decided to be generous that one day in Chemistry and share a cookie with her, she was addicted), and the fruit and grain cereal bars (blueberry just to prove that see? She can make healthy choices if she sets her mind to it) and pay for it with the bill that wasn't stolen or hadn't come from her  _'I'm doing this for you, Neal, and then we're gonna run away to Tallahassee and find happily ever after together'_ heist where the billion dollar watches were VERY real and so was the six lonely months spent in Juvie because she wasn't the rightful age old enough to go to a very REAL prison.

 

She was lucky. Emma knew she was lucky, just one year shy saving her from what could have been more time and an  _actual_ criminal record for thievery. But that didn't stop her from preferring to be alone.

 

It was Ingrid's last insistence and I-want-to-be-a-mother-for-you attempt  _"We could be a family, Emma, if you just gave it a chance"_ that finally did her in and had her handing over the twenty dollar bill to pay for her main course, telling the cashier that kept giving her looks that she guessed were meant to make her feel ashamed for not being in school but instead were making her bitter mood bitter- _er_ and the urge to roll her eyes greater- _er_ to please put the bag of flaming hot cheetos, cinnamon rolls, and the last minute addition of a Hershey bar in a separate bag.

 

Pff, she'd given Neal a chance and he'd abandoned her. So what's to say Ingrid wouldn't turn out to be the same? Go back on all her promises of a future and a home?

 

"Thanks," she responded dryly to her 'Have a good day' and then quickly snatched the two heavy bags full of calories from off the counter and walked out of Jewel Osco's glass sliding doors without a second glance.

 

Outside, it was cold as far as February mornings go, and a violent wind is fast to bite her cheeks and make her adjust the gray beanie on her head to cover her ears properly. To the right, there was a small -make that big- park that she decided was a good place to binge/make up for all the years that she'd been scraping by living on the streets with a hunger that was never satisfied.

 

Emma crossed the street and immediately headed deeper into the seclusion offered by the tall dead trees with no colorful leaves that could have served to add a brighter spot to her day, make her feel a little less sad, a little less down. Ignoring the couple kissing in the middle of the freaking sidewalk, she refrained from saying excuse me like the rude bitch she was and just shoved passed them, hoping they got the hint to take it to a hotel quick before he knocked her up right then and there, and Emma would have to be the witness to the birth of a new life.

 

 _That would have been you, idiot._ And it probably would have if she'd ever given in to Neal's not-so-subtle indications that he wanted more than just a kiss, hug, and the occasional make out in the backseat of a stupid, yellow Volkswagen.

 

She found an isolated area, far away from the public eye, and weirdly it had a bench waiting to be sat on like it totally expected a bunch of lonely girls to come visiting by with their bags of food that was their only valentine on this crappy, crappy holiday.

 

Emma plopped down with a sigh and went straight for the carton of ice cream she'd made sure to include, flinging the top off carelessly and watching it land in some bush as far she could thrown before she settled back and took out the silver spoon from her jeans pocket. "Looks like it's just you and me, rocky road..." she mumbled before scooping up a load of it in one swift move and taking it in her mouth despite her slightly shivering bones and slightly fallen temperature that had caused this bench to catch ammonia and was making her ass grimace whenever she shifted to find a more comfortable position.

 

"Don't mind me, lass."

 

Emma's eyes practically bulged out of her face with how fast she leapt up from the bench, the carton of her precious rocky road falling unceremoniously to the ground as she scrambled forward to quickly snatch the sturdy promising rock off the dirt and then spin around to face her stalker so briskly that she was sure she'd gotten whiplash in the mist of her alarming, heart beating rapidly turn.

 

Her wide eyes narrowed into a glare and the parted lips ready to scream if necessary molded into a scowl when the idiot standing in front of her had his thumbs hooked around his belt in that familiar stance like he was always leaning on some invisible something and the amusing smirk she was also too common with displayed on his smooth features as he regarded her from a few feet away, had her hurling the rock in the other direction with an irritated growl, "What the hell, Jones?!"

 

"It's nice to see you too, Swan," he changed the smirk into a sweet smile, and Emma rolled her eyes in return, hating the way her heart fluttered -almost stuttered- with that particular smile and thinking even more feeble of herself despite the many speeches she never failed to chant with the appearance of the moon at night and the rise of the sun early in the morning, to remind herself that falling for him wouldn't be worth it no matter how much she felt herself inching her way there already, and that having her heart broken again wasn't worth the risk when she'd once been convinced with a smile similar to his but worn by a different face that had whispered, " _You can trust me, Emma, I promise"_ and she had, only to what? Only to have it all end horribly wrong, the feeling of regret and abandonment never weighing on her more than when she saw the bright blue and red lights coming her way and the audible click of cool metal cuffs wrapping securely on her wrists still a haunting sound that followed her into her dreams along with the small voice that was no one else's but her own that said with a hollow realization in the dark, " _He left me. He's never coming back."_

 

 So Emma couldn't allow this particular smile or his particular  _anything_ to affect her like this. She  _wouldn't_ allow it, but it seemed that for better or for worse her heart was working against her this time where his charms and his sweet smiles and ocean blue eyes that often reflected sincerity whenever she was at his side and the quiet question " _So how was your day, Swan?_ " that she'd actually grown fond of answering, whether it be good or bad or in between, at her last period Calculus when she finally did make it to 8th period ( usually late, much to her teacher's reproach and Killian's too knowing, knowing eyebrow), was an occurrence that hadn't been much of her choosing. It'd just...happened. It had happened silently and close to the shadows in which her trust for him had developed, and that's why Emma was here now, striding angrily toward the carton of rocky road that had met its demise and dropping down on her knees to torture herself more with the sight and the disappointing knowledge that she'd only gotten one scoop in of her favorite flavor, near admitting to Killian that she thought of him as her friend even if she'd never truly utter it out loud for the sake of jinxing it.

 

"Oh please, it's kinda late for friendly greetings, don't you think? I thought you were a stalker or some weird freaking pervert about to just sit there and watch me eat ice cream for an hour."

 

He shook his head and tsk tsked, his expression grimacing at the thought. "Hence why I made my presence known, darling."

 

"Yeah," she snorted and then sighed frustatingly at the loss of rocky road, kicking her spoon to the side as she stood up and he quietly bypassed her to take a seat on the cold bench she'd previously claimed as hers and not to be joined by a certain blue-eyed, dark haired Killian Jones that she'd noticed had his own secrets and defense mechanisms. "because that was super helpful, what are you doing here anyway?"

 

"Same as you."

 

"Yeah?" Emma looked at him in a challenge, crossing her arms. "And what would that be?"

 

"Avoiding the perimeter grounds we're  _both_ supposed to be in, where our current caregivers probably wish us to be," he shrugged and there was a heaviness to it as he gazed out at any other point except directly at her when he said, "Avoiding the importance of today, I suppose."

 

"There's nothing important about today, Killian, it's just Valentines day." she wondered if her voice gave away the bitterness she felt, the anger that had assembled slowly over the seventeen years she'd been alone and never once felt truly loved or cared for by any of the foster homes she'd been placed in, secretly holding out the hope that she would receive the mother and fatherly affection she'd been denied right away from birth, or if he could hear the disappointment when she talked -not in someone, but in the life she'd been given, like a higher being had simply decided to curse Emma Swan from the beginning- and the dread that had been building for weeks now as the red roses were purchased at school for him to give to that special her, and the signs advertising chocolates in the shape of hearts were taped to the window displays of stores she never went in that she speed-walked by on the way back to Ingrid's for the blocks that her afternoon demanded if she seeked to get out of the chilly temperature that still revolved around February 14th.

 

The arch of his eyebrow put to rest that wondering and sprouted to life an unspoken question in his cerulean depths that carefully asked,  _why to you?_

 

"Aye, so I've gathered," Killian grinned up at her and patted the empty space next to him, an invitation. Emma bit her lip, pondering whether to go and run away from his company like she did everyone else's. Or stay. Staying always felt scary. It meant they would talk, real and alone, and even though they have done this at least three times in the five months they've known each other, she was still never prepared for the way he found a crack through her walls. With a sigh that sounded like defeat to her ears, Emma fell onto the bench and took approximately one second to decide to bring her legs up and sit butterfly style. When she looked at Killian again, he was smiling, and the reflex to say something snappy was on the tip of her tongue but she elected to let his cheeriness be. Maybe she liked it. Maybe she didn't. But either way she leaned forward to pull out the box of poptarts from the plastic bag and rip it open in her lap. "But why do YOU find the wretched holiday unimportant, Swan?" he turned his piqued interest to face her fidgeting hands in the middle of tearing the wrapper to reveal the air of strawberry goodness.

 

"I'll answer that only if you do," she mumbled distractedly, almost too low that she was sure he hadn't caught it in the wind that gust their way.

 

"Deal."

 

"What?"

 

"Ladies first, of course."

 

"Nice try, Jones."

 

"I'm being entirely serious, Swan," he protested and she gave him a look like he didn't know  _how_ to be serious even though the rare moments they were together he demonstrated the opposite. Maybe it was that she was afraid that one day he wouldn't be entirely honest or entirely serious and she'd catch him in a lie like she did everyone else at some point, but his clear sky blues burned with an earnest she wasn't sure how to handle. Sitting here like this, it was like she was sitting with a whole different Killian Jones, one without the flirty winks and suggestive smiles and the sassy remarks. The one next to her was the  _real_ Killian Jones few got to see, and Emma knew that was deliberate on his part. Maybe she was the same. Maybe she also felt the smallest, tiniest bit of safety when she was with him, and that was enough to leave her tough facade behind if only for the short time he made her laugh and their gazes met with a genuine sincerity in whatever words they ended up leaking.

 

"Never said you weren't."

 

"Fine," he huffed, all for show it was, if the playful bump of his shoulder with hers afterwards was any indication as she pretended to be very invested in her poptart, the rocky feel along the front and the smoothness of the crust at the back, how perfectly rectangular shaped it was, cut in the form of a picture frame between her thumb and forefinger. "My personal vendetta for the dislike of this holiday and that insipid cupid man-child -quite the creepy tot, if you ask me- would be for the lost love a few meager years back."

 

She didn't miss a beat. "Ah, so bad break-up with dear, sweet girlfriend is your reason?" she asked, wiping away the fallen crumbs on her thigh covered jeans and then taking another messy bite that resulted in surprise, surprise! MORE tumbling crumbs.

 

"Not quite, love," he flashed her a weak smile and caught her so off-guard when a calloused hand reached up to swipe a stray sticking crumb off her chin with the pad of his thumb, the touch so light it was almost not there, more like a soft graze, just a ghost passing by caressing the cool skin and then moving on that she didn't even have time to blink or clear her throat to free the air of its settled awkwardness because surprisingly there was  _no_ settled awkwardness. It was...natural. Just like when she took up eating again and he leaned back on the bench and sighed, seemingly adrift in a train of thought like what had just happened was normal, and totally not weird and totally them even if this was the first interaction of any kind like  _that._ "It orbits more around a memory. See, when Liam and I were young -he eleven and I eight-I recall that every Valentine's day my father would go all out, brandishing my mother with the flowers of her fancy, candlelight dinner, chocolates that he had no appreciation for but would present her with simply because she had a rather special taste for them. She was his anchor, and...when that anchor was gone, so was his spirit. Perhaps it's the way he loved her and couldn't love my brother and I after, but its left a bitter tarnish whenever the 14th rolls around, the inescapable recollection of happier times."

 

Emma wasn't sure when they had begun inching closer to each other but suddenly she looked down and their knees were touching. She didn't scoot away though, didn't immediately put respective distance between them. She didn't  _want_ to. Instead she did the one thing she could think of doing after having been confided with a truth like that. Emma dropped her head to his shoulder and closed her eyes, hoping that it served as a comforting gesture when words like  _I understand_ were in vain and an innocent yet loaded motion like interlacing their fingers wasn't possible. "I'm sorry, Killian," she whispered and after a minute his cheek came down to rest on the beanie covering her hair where she would have felt his eyes close too.

 

"As am I, Emma," he whispered back just as quietly.

 

For a moment they just stayed there, him probably sadly reminiscing in the happier times when his father was still his father and his mother was still there to greet him hi at the door when he got home while Emma searched for a happier time that wasn't clouded by the feeling of being unloved and unloving, unwanted by every family she came across.

 

"So what would be the cause of your discord, sweetheart?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

" _Nice try, Swan,_ " he said mimicking her tone when not so long she'd pulled a  _"Nice try, Jones."_   She laughed and his accompanying chuckle shook her head gently up and down.

 

"Okay, okay, so my  _vendetta_ ," she rolled her eyes at the fancy words that seemed to fall naturally from his lips, but that she'd secretly taken an appeal to; he must have excelled extremely well in all his essays back in England. Emma briefly wondered if he would assist her with hers, words always having failed her when she needed them the most. "as you called it before-"

 

"Remarkable memory you got there, Swan." she could practically  _hear_ the grin he was no doubt sporting from ear to ear, and she was tempted to shove his smug ass but decided not to risk having her half-eaten poptart be collateral damage. A poptart was a poptart. Every poptart mattered.

 

"Will you shut up for a second, Jones, and let me spill my guts out?"

 

"What an odd request that, but by all means, love," he waved his hand as if producing an invisible stage and an invisible audience of only one captive and attentive listener that was all she really needed, and Emma was curious as to when she'd let Killian Jones become her one captive and attentive listener but somehow he'd scaled his way to being the one person she didn't  _truly_ mind sitting next to on this slightly chilly, slightly wind-blowing, and SLIGHTLY freezing her ass off on this ugly battered bench that all made up a Thursday she'd originally planned to spend alone. "the floor is yours."

 

Emma bit her lip, unsure of how to explain or even where to begin. She didn't want to go into much detail of the story of a little lost girl who'd never had a place to call home. Her life, she'd soon discovered, wasn't a movie with a happy ending already drafted out. There was no visible light at the end of the tunnel, at least not yet. All those whispered encouragements she remembered much too clearly like it was just yesterday a smaller version of Emma with freshly red-rimmed eyes and a withering hope like the petals of a flower that turned dark with decay and sank low in their once tall stem that recited  _One day it will get better, one day they'll find me, one day I'll understand why they didn't keep me_ , that all fell flat and devoid of a reality she'd tried to desperately imagine wasn't her own when an older image still clutched tightly onto the edge of the blanket that was much softer under her fingers, much cleaner, and given to her more freely with a smile she wasn't sure how to perceive. If to let herself return or not return.

 

Because when you were used to the insults and the malevolent retorts spit your way, how could you not be afraid of kindness? How you could accept anything better when you'd never known beyond being a hassle and a meal ticket, just another mouth to feed, just another girl in the system? And how could Emma possibly put it in a sentence that at times she felt her walls strong as steel and nothing could break through, but then there were days where she felt like the smallest thing would erupt a flood and surviving wasn't enough because on a day when the world burst with color and love, all she had to show for was her brokenness. And she wanted no part of it.

 

She wanted no part with herself. She simply wanted to fade, and when that didn't work, she ran away.

 

"I don't know, I've just -I'm just not really pleasant to be around with today." And that was it. That was probably all she would say, all she was capable of disclosing. It became difficult to divulge of the more when she didn't want to be swallowed up by the more, or risk crying in front of him to tears that usually betrayed her. Or worse, have him wipe them away too. Have him  _actually_ care.

 

"I disagree, Swan, so far so good. There's been no cracking of pastry over my head so I'll take that as a sign of amenity, let's keep it that way, shall we?"

 

Except maybe he already cared.

 

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

 

"A pretty girl did tell me once or twice."

 

"She was right."

 

"What if I told her she was beautiful?"

 

"Bloody beautiful to be exact?"

 

"Aye, bloody beautiful to be exact."

 

Emma pretended to think hard on that for two seconds, ignoring the blush creeping up her cheeks. "She'd probably say you were exaggerating."

 

"And if I'm not?"

 

"Then you just have a super cheesy side nobody knows about, Jones."

 

"Nobody except you."

 

"Except me," she nodded.

 

"Although now that you mention it, I have taken a liking to the American cheese."

 

"I can hear the British people frowning upon you from here."

 

"You must have quite the ear for such elaborate facts."

 

"In another life I was a superhero with super hearing."

 

"What about your superpower for anyone spewing falsehood?"

 

"That too."

 

Killian shifted beside her and Emma shifted along with him, so as not to lose the warmth being furnished by both their bodies pressed so close together. "You believe in that, Swan?" she felt his lips moving against the cotton and a very selfish and very unlike her part of her wished she could remove the hat so she could really feel how his lips moved against her skin, the scalp of her head where she was sure his breath would expel heat onto her longing strands where it was easy to imagine his face buried if she were a different person, or have them speak against her hairline where she knew his chapped lips matched hers and irritably insisted for a lib balm their kiss could provide to soothe the rough -But again, if she was a different person. Someone less marred from the inside. "Alternative universes?"

 

"I think...I think I'd be happy to believe that in another universe, or life, or whatever, another Emma Swan is surrounded by love on Valentine's day -not just the romantic kind, but the one in a family and friends who care, friends who don't lie. Parents who wouldn't even dream of giving her up..." a tear slid down her cheek, her voice growing quiet at the end and trailing off. Emma immediately swiped it away with an angry sigh, hating herself and cursing her vulnerability, the hurt of never having what should have been guaranteed.

 

Suddenly the warm body next to her was gone, and Emma head slipped on a solid shoulder of nothing, the vigor cold air and merciless wind instantly hitting her face with a shocking strength now that she had nowhere to turn and hid it in. She adjusted the beanie and blew out a breath, thinking  _I've scared him away, I never should have said that, why couldn't you just walk away? Why did you blush? Why did you have to feel the whole zoo when he called you beautiful (Indirectly, but still) ? Why aren't you walking away now? Get up and run, Emma!_ regret coursing hotly through her veins for opening up, for going against every voice that warned her to not let her guard down because  _remember the last time, Emma? remember the disappointment, remember how much more it hurt to be wrong_ before a hand waved itself in her vision and she just stared up at it, confused.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"I've made a decision," Killian announced so brightly and with such a cheesy smile that one would have guessed it was kindergarten again and he'd just received a cookie. Emma would have laughed at the sight, complete with the jumping on the balls of his feet ( probably more to fend off the cold because neither of them were big on coats) if she wasn't so busy trying to figure out why the hell there was no shoulder to support her head anymore, or why she may or may not want to accept his hand wherever he led her.

 

Oh no, she's screwed, isn't she?

 

She's screwed, and she doesn't even know it.

 

But maybe he knows it and that's why he's grinning like a fool,  _the fool._

 

Ugh.

 

Emma likes that smile. It might be her favorite.

 

That can't be a good thing.

 

"Come on now, lass, we don't have all day," his hand urged her up impatiently and she (hesitantly) complied.

 

"For what, Jones? You need to stop acting like we're best friends about to finish each other's sentences because I've only known you for five months, and I can't finish whatever train of thought you were on."

 

"Had no idea you were counting, Swan," he responded smugly and she shot him a look that said  _Don't_ but his answering smirk said _A_ _lready did._

 

"I wasn't."

 

"Now, now, Swan, there's no need to be ashamed. They were the best five months of my life too," he winked as he scooped up one of the bags and she grabbed the other one with a huff, even though she was intent on snatching it away the second he was distracted so she could move on with her misery because she didn't know what this was, what they were doing, but he'd stayed.

 

"Here we go again..."

 

"And finishing each other's sentences, you say? I must admit I don't quite believe in telepathy, love, but the daily occurrence of soulmates? Now that might be put up for deba-"

 

She snorted, "What movies are you watching?"

 

"Unbelievably corny ones by the tone of your voice and that cute wrinkle of your nose."

 

"Yeah...we gotta fix that," Emma ignored the last comment because it felt too much like school, the bantering like this, the jesting like this, and she could almost imagine they were actually sitting in their assigned seats that she had grumbled about at first because she'd gotten put next to Killian Jones of all people, and let's get wholly honest here, she had expected it to be a living nightmare up until he turned out to be funny and his note taking skills turned out to be better, improving the bitter mood she was always in after lunch and serving as a savior for the barely hanging by a loose thread A that was her 90.1 with his damn good cursive lettering and stupid perfect punctuation. She could almost imagine they had actually gone to school today, and he was improving her bitter mood all over again.

 

"I'll add it to the list of potential topics we will one day discuss when we're best friends and can finish each other's sentences."

 

"What on earth gave you the idea we would last that far?" The playful arch of his eyebrow made her realize she'd just walked herself right into his trap, but weirdly, she didn't mind. Neither did the smile that threatened to break out, but it seemed to not mind daily now. When had that changed?

 

"Perhaps the fact that you haven't promptly ambled away yet, and the very real notion that you didn't throw that rock at me after all throughout our entire dialogue." He leaned in and wiggled his eyebrows. "Admit it, Emma, you like me." He shook his head to cut off the very real protest she was about to make, obviously not done teasing her yet, when his eyes drifted to the bag she was holding and smiled mischievously at its contents, looking at her and then at the bag and back at her again before finally pointing out, " _And,_ it appears to me that you purchased  _chewy_ chocolate chip cookies among the...other unhealthy treats you've bought," he grinned. "You were thinking of me, weren't you?" and Emma tried to brush it off, roll her eyes like was her custom, let her pointed look be the voice of reason as in  _really?  I hadn't even noticed they were there_ but maybe on some subconscious level...

 

"OKAY, Jones, my fatness aside, this is officially over, goodbye now-"

 

"Emma-"

 

"What?" she snapped, and it never ceased to surprise her (however few times she's witnessed it) how he could transit from playful to serious in a matter of minutes when the time to be serious came, how easily he could shift along with her emotions. Nobody had ever given enough crap about her to care like that, to move at her pace, to pay attention to the smallest of details that were unimportant to some, but Killian was different. He kept them store in a special file in his memory reserved just for her with her name on top while everyone else would have forgotten that Emma Swan's favorite color is purple - " _Specifically lavender, aye?_ "- and that she has a certain appreciation for the Hunger Games Trilogy ever since she got her wandering hands on the books way back in November, speeding through all three quite impressively  _If I do say so myself_ during her time off for Thanksgiving break - " _Catching fire was quite riveting, Swan, kept me on the edge of my tea, but I must confess I don't like this Snow fellow. Brilliant government dictatorship he's managed to concoct, but bloody frenzied he is."  "Tea, Killian?"  "I do also have a favorite drink of choice, lass."  "Yeah, but tea..."  "Judgy much?"  
_

 

Killian sighed and took a small step forward, scratching behind his ear as he said, "I wish to spend the day with you, Swan, if you so permitted. You wouldn't have to be alone, and...this way we could loathe the bloody concept that is Valentine's...together," he added hesitantly, a bright pink tainting his cheeks as he awaited her response.

 

The corner of Emma's mouth ticked up without permission. "And after?"

 

"And after we'd never have to speak about this again, if that's what you chose."

 

It was uncharted territory she was toeing. 

 

"Yeah. I think I'd like that."

 

But she accepted his hand anyway.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So 1 - I hope you liked it! It was fun to write, despite the itty bit of sadness involved.
> 
> But 2- Eventually this will be part of a whole chapter story where Emma and Killian go through the hell that is high school, but for now I came up with this cause my creative juices were flowing and so I just rolled with it-of course I would have added how they went about spending the day together and causing ruckus and chaos in their wake along with some much needed and much loved banter.
> 
> And 3- Thoughts?


End file.
